And Then There Were None
by Jervis Tetch1234
Summary: The chilling horror retold with Adventure Time characters. This is given if their professions were the same as they were from the novel. The characters don't know eachother and their professions are changed.
1. List of Cast

I am looking for suggestions of adventure time characters that should be part of the classic novel's retelling.

LIST OF CHARACTERS:

The Victims:

1\. Doctor Edward George Armstrong- Dr. Simon Petrikov

2\. Emily Caroline Brent- Princess Bonnibel Bubblegum

3\. Davis/ William Henry Blore- Davey/Finn

4\. Vera Elizabeth Claythorne- Marceline

5\. Philip Lombard- Marshall Lee

6\. General John Gordon MacArthur- Jake

7\. Anthony James Marston- The Duke of Nuts

8\. Thomas and Ethel Rogers- Peppermint Butler, and B-MO

9\. Lawrence John Wargrave- Gerald Browne

Other Characters:

1\. Isaac Morris- Lemongrab

2\. Fred Narracott- Starchy

4\. Sir Thomas Legge- Captain Root Beer Guy

5\. Inspector Maine- Banana Guard

6\. Hugo Hamilton- Ash

7\. Leslie MacArthur- Lady Rainicorn

Murder Victims-

1\. Louisa Mary Clees- Betty

2\. Beatrice Taylor- Lemonhope

3\. James Stephen Landor- Magic Man

4\. Cyril Ogilvie Hamilton- Chris

5\. 21 men of an East African tribe- 21 villagers of an the Republic of Kansas

6\. Arthur Richmond- Mr. Cupcake

7\. John and Lucy Combes- Jervis and Alice Tetch

8\. Jennifer Brady- Old Mr. Creampuff

9\. Edward Seton- Thomas Browne


	2. Chapter 1

Starchy sat by the engine thinking to himself that this was a queer lot. Not at all his idea of what Mr. Owen's guests were likely to be. He'd expected something altogether more classy. Togged up women and gentleman in yachting costume and all very rich and important.

Not at all like the Party God's parties. A faint grin came to Starchy's lips as he remembered the God's guests. That had been a party if you like- and the drink they got through!

This Mr. Owen must be a very different sort of gentleman. Funny it was, thought Starchy, that he'd never set his eyes on Owen- or his Missus either. Never had he been down here yet, he hadn't. Everything ordered and pain for by that Lemongrab. Instructions very clear and payment prompt, but it was odd all the same. The papers said there was a mystery about Owen. Starchy agreed.

He summed them up dispassionately.

A pink haired older woman. Old military dog. A man wearing all black. Nice looking girl. A blonde haired gentleman. A dark haired man with quick eyes.

No there was only one satisfactory passenger. The last gentleman the who arrived in a chariot. He was the right kind. Born to money, he was. If the party had been all like him... he'd understand it...

Queer business when you come to think of it- the whole thing was queer-very queer...

The boat churned its way around the rock. Now at last the house came into view. The south side of the island was quite different. It shelved gently down to the sea. The house was there facing south-low and square and modern-looking with rounding windows letting in all the light. An exciting house-a house that lived up to expectation!

Starchy shut off the engine, they nosed their way gently into a little natural inlet between rocks.

Marshall Lee said sharply:

"Must be difficult to land here in dirty weather."

Starchy said cheerfully:

"Can't land on Indian Island when there's a southeasterly. Sometimes 'tis cut off for a week or more."

Marceline thought:

"The catering must be very difficult. That's the worst of an island. All the domestic problems are so worrying."

The boat grated against the rocks. Starchy jumped out, and he and Marshall Lee helped the others to alight. Starchy made the boat fast to a ring in the rock.

General Jake said:

"Delightful spot!"

But he felt uneasy. Damned odd sort of place.

As the party ascended the steps, and came out on a terrace above, their spirits revived. In the open doorway of the house a correct butler was awaiting them, and something about his gravity reassured them. And then the house itself was really most attractive, and the view from the terrace magnificent...

The butler came forward bowing slightly. He was a short round man made of peppermint, bald, and very respectable. He said:  
"Will you come this way please?"

In the wide hall drinks and pudding stood ready. Rows upon rows of pudding cups. The Duke of Nuts' spirits cheered up a little. He'd been thinking this was a rum kind of show. None of _his_ lot! What could the old King have been thinking about to let him in for this? However the drinks were all right. Plenty of ice, too.

What was it this butler chap was saying?

"Mr. Owen- unfortunately delayed-unable to get here til to-morrow. Instructions-everything they wanted-if they would like to go to their rooms?...dinner would be at 8 o'clock..."

* * *

Marceline followed B-MO upstairs. The robot had thrown open a door at the end of the passage and Marceline had walked into a delightful bedroom with a big window that opened wide upon the sea and another looking east. She uttered a quick exclamation of pleasure.

B-MO was saying:

"I hope you've got everything you want, Miss?"

Marceline looked round. Her luggage had been brought up and unpacked. At one side of the room a door stood open into a pale blur tiled bathroom.

She said quickly:

"Yes, everything, I think."

"You'll ring the bell if you want anything, Miss?"

B-MO had a flat monotonous voice. Marceline looked at B-MO more closely. Very respectable looking with a black dress and a black wig. Queer little eyes that shifted around the room from place to place.

Marceline thought:  
"She looks frightened of her own shadow!"

Yes, that was it- frightened!

A little shiver passed down Marceline's back. What on Earth was the woman afraid of?

She said pleasantly:

"I'm Mrs. Owen new secretary. I expect you know that."

B-MO said:

"No, Miss, I don't know anything. Just a list of the ladies and gentlemen and what rooms they were to have."

Marceline said:

"Mrs. Owen didn't mention me?"

B-MO's screen flickered.

"I haven't seen Mrs. Owen- not yet. We only came here two days ago."

"Extraordinary people, these Owens," thought Marceline. She said aloud:

"What staff is there here?"

"Just me and Peppermint, Miss."

Maarceline frowned. Eight people in the house- ten with the host and hostess- and only one married people to do for them.

B-MO said:

"I'm a good cook and Peppermint is handy about the house. I didn't know, of course, that there was supposed to be such a large party."

Marceline said:

"But you can manage?"

"Oh, yes, Miss, I can manage. If there's to be large parties often perhaps Mrs. Owen could get extra help in."

Marceline said,"I expect so."

B-MO turned to go. It's feet moved noiselessly over the ground. It drifted from the room like a shadow.

Marceline went over to the window and sat down on the window seat. She was faintly disturbed. Everything-somehow-was a little queer. The absence of the Owens. The pale ghostlike B-MO. And the guests! Yes, the guests were queer too. An oddly assorted party.

Marceline thought:

"I wish I'd seen the Owens... I wish I knew what they were like."

She got up and walked restlessly about the room.

A perfect bedroom decorated throughout in the modern style. Off-white rugs on the gleaming parquet floor-faintly tinted walls- a long mirror surrounded by lights. A mantelpiece bare of ornaments save for an enormous block of white marble shaped like a bear, a piece of modern sculpture in which was inset a clock. Over it, in a gleaming chromium frame, was a big square of parchment-a poem.

She stood in front of the fireplace and read it. It was an old nursery rhyme she remembered from her childhood days.

_Ten little Indian boys went out to dine;_

_One choked his little self and then there were nine._

_Nine little Indian boys sat up very late;_

_One overslept himself and then there were eight._

_Eight little Indian boys traveling in Devon;_

_One said he'd stay there and then there were seven._

_Seven little Indian boys chopping up sticks;_

_One chopped himself in half and then there were six._

_Six little Indian boys playing with a hive;_

_A bumblebee stung one and then there were five._

_Five little Indian boys going in for law;_

_One got in Chancery and then there were four._

_Four little Indian boys going out to sea;_

_A red herring swallowed one and then there were three._

_Three little Indian boys walking in the Zoo;_

_A big bear hugged one and then there were two._

_Two little Indian boys sitting in the sun;_

_One got frizzled up and then there was one._

_One little Indian boy left all alone;_

_He went and hanged himself and then there were none._

Marceline smiled. Of course! This was Indian Island!

She sat and went by the window looking out to sea.

How big the sea was! From here there was no land to be seen anywhere-just a vast expense of blue water rippling in the evening sun.

The sea... So peaceful to-day-sometimes so cruel... The sea that dragged you down to it's depths. Drowned...Found drowned...Drowned at sea...Drowned-drowned-drowned...

No, she wouldn't remember...She would _not_ think of it!

All that was over...

* * *

Dr. Petrikov came to Indian Island just as the sun was sinking into the sea. On the way across he chatted to the boatman-a local man. He was anxious to find out about these people who owned Indian Island, but the man Starchy seemed ill informed, or perhaps unwilling to talk.

So Dr. Petrikov chatted instead of the weather and fishing.

His eyeballs ached.

Yes, he was very tired. The sea and perfect peace-that was what he wanted. He would like, really, to take a long holiday. But he couldn't afford to do that. He could afford it financially, of course, but he couldn't afford to drop out. You were soon forgotten nowadays. No, now that he arrived he must keep his nose to the grindstone.

He thought:  
"All the same this evening, I'll imagine to myself that I'm not going back-that I've done with my home in the Ice Kingdom and all the rest of it."

There was something magical about an island-the mere word suggested fantasy. You lost touch with the world- an island was a world of it's own. A world, perhaps, from which you'll never return.

He thought:  
"I'm leading my old life behind me."

And, smiling to himself, he began to make plans, fantastic plans for the future.

He was still smiling when he walked up the rock cut steps.

In a chair on the terrace a young gentleman was sitting and the sight of him was slightly familiar to Dr. Petrikov. Of course- old Gerald Browne.

Funny place to meet him...here-out of the world.

* * *

Mr. Gerald Browne thought to himself:  
"Petrikov? Remember him in the witness box. Very correct and cautious. All doctors are damned fools. Ice Kingdom ones are the worst of the lot." And his mind dwelt malevolently on a recent interview he had had with a suave personage in that very kingdom.

Aloud he grunted:  
"Drinks are in the hall."

Dr. Petrikov said:  
"I must go and pay my respect to our host and hostess."

Mr. Gerald Browne closed his eyes again, and said:  
"You can't do that."

Dr. Petrikov was startled.

"Why not?"

The man said:

"No host and hostess. Very curious state of affairs. Don't understand this place."

Dr. Petrikov stared at him for a minute. When he thought the man had fallen asleep, Browne said suddenly:

"D'you know Alice Scott?"

"Er-no I'm afraid I don't."

"It's of no consequence," said the young man. "Very vague woman- and practically unreadable handwriting. I was wondering if I'd come to the wrong house."

Dr. Petrikov shook his head and went on up to the house.

Mr. Gerald Browne reflected on the subject of Alice Scott. Undependable like all women.

His mind went on to the two women in the house, the pink haired woman and the girl. He didn't care for the girl, cold blooded young hussy. No, three women, if you counted that B-MO as female. Odd creature, she looked scared to death. Respectable pair and knew their job.

Peppermint coming out onto the terrace that minute, the young man asked him:

"Is Alice Scott expected, do you know?"

Peppermint stared at him.

"No sir, not to my knowledge."

The man's eyebrows rose. But he only grunted.

He thought:  
"Indian Island, eh? There's a fly in the ointment."

* * *

The Duke of Nuts was in his bath. He luxuriated in the steaming water. His limbs had felt cramped after his long ride. Very few thoughts passed through his head. The Duke was a creature of sensation- and of action.

He thought to himself:  
"Must go through with it, I suppose," and thereafter dismissed everything from his mind.

Warm steaming water-tired limbs-presently a shave-a cocktail- dinner.

And after-?

* * *

Finn was tying his tie. He wasn't very good at this sort of thing.

Did he look alright? He supposed so.

Nobody had been exactly cordial to him...Funny the way they all eyed each other-as though they _knew_...

Well, it was up to him.

He didn't mean to bundle his job.

He glanced up at the framed nursery rhyme over the mantelpiece.

Nice touch, having that there!

"Remember this island when I was a kid. Never thought I'd be doing this sort of job in a house here. Good thing, perhaps, that one can't foresee the future..."

* * *

Jake was frowning to himself.

Damn it all, the whole thing was deuced odd! Not at all what he'd been led to expect...

For two pins he'd make an excuse and get away...Throw up the whole business...

But the motorboat had gone back to the mainland.

He'd have to stay.

That fellow Lee now, he was a queer chap. Not straight. He'd swear the man wasn't straight.

* * *

As the gong sounded, Marshall Lee came out of his room and walked to the head of the stairs. He moved like a panther, smoothly and noiselessly. There was something of the panther about him altogether. A beast of prey- pleasant to the eye.

He was smiling to himself.

A week-eh?

He was going to enjoy that week.

* * *

In her bedroom, Bonnibel Bubblegum, dressed in black silk ready for dinner, she was reading her Bible.

Her lips moved as she followed the words:

"_The heathen are sunk down in the pit that they made: in the net which they hid is their own foot taken. The Lord is known by the judgement in which he executeth: the wicked is snared in the work of his own hands. The wicked shall be turned into hell."_

Her tight lips closed. She shut the Bible.

Rising, she pinned a cairngorm brooch at her neck, and went down to dinner.

* * *

**HOW AM I DOING SO FAR?**


	3. Chapter 2

Dinner was drawing to a close.

The food had been good, the wine perfect. Peppermint waited well.

Everyone was in better spirits. They had begun to talk to each other with more freedom and intimacy.

Mr. Gerald Browne, mellowed by the excellent port, was being amusing in a caustic fashion; Dr. Petrikov and the Duke of Nuts were listening to him. Miss Bubblegum chatted with General Jake; they had discovered some mutual friends. Marceline was asking Davey intelligent questions about the Wasteland. Davey was quite fluent on the subject. Lee was listening to the conversation. Once or twice he looked up quickly, then his eyes narrowed. Now and then his eyes played round the table, studying the others.

The Duke of Nuts said suddenly:

"Quaint, these things, aren't they?"

In the centre of the round table on a circular glass stand, were some little china figures.

"Indians," said the Duke. "Indian Island. I suppose that's the idea."

Marceline leaned forward.

"I wonder how many there are? Ten?"

"Yes- ten there are."

Marceline cried:

"What fun! They're the ten little Indian boys of the nursery rhyme, I suppose. In my bedroom the rhyme is framed and hung up over the mantelpiece."

Lee said:  
"In my room, too."

"And mine."

"And mine."

Everybody joined the chorus. Marceline Abadeer said:

"It's an amusing idea, isn't it?"

Mr. Gerald Browne grunted:  
"Remarkably childish," and he helped himself to port.

Bonnibel looked at Marceline. Marceline looked at Bonnibel. The two women rose.

In the drawing room, the French windows were open onto the terrace and the sound of the sea murmuring against the rocks came up to them.

Bonnibel Bubblegum said:

"Pleasant sound."

Marceline Abadeer said sharply:

"I hate it."

Miss Bubblegum's eyes looked at her in surprise. Marceline flushed. She said, more composedly:

"I don't think this place would be very agreeable in a storm."

Miss Bubblegum agreed.

"I've no doubt the house is shut up in winter," she said."You'd never get the servants to stay here for one thing."

Marceline murmured:

"It must be difficult to get servants anyway."

Bonnibel Bubblegum said:

"Mrs. Oliver has been lucky to get these two. The robot's a good cook."

Marceline thought:

"Funny how older people always get names wrong."

She said:

"Yes, I think Mrs. Owen has been very lucky indeed."

Bonnibel Bubblegum had brought a small embroidery out of her bag. Now, as she was about to thread the needle, she paused. She said sharply:

"Owen? Did you say Owen?"

"Yes."

"I've never met anyone called Owen in my entire life."

Marceline stared.

"But surely-"

She did not finish her sentence. The door opened and the men joined them. Peppermint followed them into the room with a coffee tray.

Gerald sat down next to Bonnibel Bubblegum. Petrikov came up to Marceline. The Duke of Nuts strolled to the open window. Finn studied with naive surprise a statuette in brass- wondering if its bizarre angularities were really supposed to be the female figure. Jake stood with his back to the mantelpiece. That had been a damned good dinner! His spirits were rising. Lee turned over the pages of _Punch _that lay with other papers by the wall. _  
_

Peppermint went around with the coffee tray. The coffee was good-really black and really hot.

The whole party had dined well. They were satisfied with themselves and with life. The hands of the clock pointed to twenty minutes past nine. There was a silence-a comfortable replete silence.

Into the silence came The Voice. Without warning, inhuman, penetrating...

"_Ladies and gentlemen! Silence please!"__  
_

Everyone was startled. They looked round- at each other, at the walls. Who was speaking?

The Voice went on- a high clear voice.

_You are charged with the following indictments:_

_Simon Petrikov, that you did upon the 14th day of March, 3025, cause the death of Betty Granger._

_Bonnibel Bubblegum, that upon the 5th of November, 3031, you were responsible for the death of Lemonhope._

_Finn the Human, that you brought about the death of Magic Man on October 10th, 3028._

_Marceline Abadeer, that on the 11th day of August, 3035, you killed Chris Northcaster._

_Marshall Lee, that upon a date in February, 2032, you were guilty of the death of 21 men, members of the Republic of Kansas. _

_Jake The Dog, that on the 4th of January, 3017, you deliberately sent your wife's lover, Mr. Cupcake, to his death. _

_The Duke of Nuts, that upon the 14th day of November last, you were guilty of the murder of Jervis and Alice Tetch. _

_Peppermint Butler and B-MO, that on the 6th of May, 3029, you brought about the death of Mr. Creampuff._

_Gerald Christopher Browne, that upon the 10th day of June, 2030, you were guilty of the murder of Thomas Browne. _

_Prisoners at the bar, have you anything to say in your defence?_

* * *

The Voice stopped.

There was a moment's petrified silence and then a resounding crash! Peppermint had dropped the coffee tray!

At the same moment, from somewhere outside the room there came a scream and a sound of a thud.

Marshall was the first to move. He leapt to the door and flung it open. Outside, lying in a huddled mass, was B-MO.

Marshall called:

"Duke."

The Duke sprang to help him. Between them, they lifted up the robot and carried it into the drawing-room.

Dr. Petrikov came across quickly. He helped them lift it onto the sofa and bent over her. He said quickly:

"It's nothing. She's fainted, that's all. She'll be round in a minute."

Marshall said to Peppermint:

"Get some brandy."

Peppermint, his face completely white, his hands shaking, murmured:

"Yes, sir," and slipped quickly out of the room.

Marceline cried out:

''Who was that speaking? Where was he? It sounded-it sounded-"

General Jake spluttered out:

"What's going on here? What kind of practical joke was that?''

His hand was shaking. His shoulders sagged. He looked suddenly ten years older.

Finn was mopping his face with a handkerchief.

Only Mr. Gerald Browne and Miss Bubblegum seemed comparatively unmoved. Bonnibel Bubblegum sat upright, her head held high. In both cheeks was a spot of hard color. Gerald sat in his habitual pose, head sunk down into his neck. With one hand he gently scratched his ear. Only his eyes were active, darting round and round the room, puzzled, alert with intelligence.

Again it was Marshall who acted. Petrikov was being busy with the collapsed robot, Marshall was free once more to take the initiative.

He said:

"That voice? It sounded as though it were in the room."

Marceline said:

"Who was it? Who was it? It wasn't one of us."

Like Gerald, Lee's eyes wandered slowly round the room. They rested on the open window then he shook his head decisively. Suddenly his eyes lighted up. He moved forward swiftly to where a door opened near the fireplace led into an adjoining room.

With a swift gesture, he caught the handle and flung the door open. He passed through and immediately uttered an exclamation of satisfaction.

He said:

"Ah, here we are."

The others crowded after him. Only Miss Bonnibel Bubblegum remained alone sitting erect in her chair.

Inside the second room a table had been brought up close to the wall which adjoined the drawing-room. On the table was a gramophone-an old fashioned type with a large trumpet attached. The mouth of the trumpet was against the wall, and Lee, pushing it aside, indicated where two or more small holes had been unobtrusively bored through the wall.

Adjusting the gramophone he replaced the needle on the record and immediately they heard again:

"_You are charged with the following indictments-"_

Marceline cried:

"Turn it off! Turn it off! It's horrible!"

Lee obeyed.

Dr. Petrikov said, with a sigh of relief:

"A disgraceful and heartless practical joke, I suppose."

The small clear voice of Mr. Gerald Browne murmured:

"So you think it's a joke, do you?"

The doctor stared at him.

"What else could it be?"

The hand of the young man gently stroked his upper lip.

He said:

"At the moment I'm not prepared to give an opinion."

The Duke of Nuts broke in. He said:

"Look here, there's one thing you've forgotten. Who the devil turned the thing on and set it going?"

Browne murmured:

"Yes, I think we should inquire into that."

He led the way back to the drawing-room. The others followed.

Peppermint had just come in with a glass of brandy. Miss Bubblegum was bending over the moaning form of B-MO.

Adroitly Peppermint slipped in between the two.

"Allow me, Madam, I'll speak to her. B-MO-B-MO-It's alright. Alright you hear? Pull yourself together."

B-MO's breath came in quick gasps. Its eyes, staring frightened eyes, went round and round the ring of faces. There was urgency in Peppermint's tone.

"Pull yourself together, B-MO."

Dr. Petrikov spoke to it soothingly.

"You'll be alright now, B-MO. Just a nasty turn."

"Did I faint, sir?"

"Yes."

"It was that Voice-that awful voice-_like a_ _judgement-_"

Dr. Petrikov said sharply:

"Where's that brandy?"

Peppermint had put it down on the table. Someone handed it to him and he bent over the robot with it.

"Drink this, B-MO."

It drank, choking a little and gasping. The spirit did it good.

"I'm all right, now. Just gave me a turn."

Peppermint said quickly:

"Of course it did! It gave me a turn too. Fair made me drop that tray. Wicked lies, it was. I'd like to know-"

He was interrupted. It was only a cough-a dry little cough but it had the effect of stopping him in full cry. He stared at Mr. Gerald Browne and the latter coughed again. Then he said:

"Who put that record on the gramophone. Was it you, Peppermint?"

"I didn't know what it was. Before God, I didn't know what it was, sir. If I had I'd never have done it."

Gerald said dryly:

"That is probably true. But I'd think you'd better explain, Peppermint."

The butler wiped his face with a handkerchief.

He said earnestly:

"I was just obeying orders, sir, that's all."

"Whose orders?"

"Mr. Owen's."

Mr. Gerald Browne said:

"Let me get this quite clear. Mr. Owen's orders were-what exactly?"

Peppermint said:

"I was to put the record on the gramophone. I'd find the record in the drawer and my wife was to start the gramophone when I'd gone into the drawing-room with the coffee tray."

Gerald murmured:

"A very remarkable story."

Peppermint cried:

"It's the truth, sir. I swear to God it's the truth. I didn't know what it was-not for a moment. It had a name on it-I thought it was just a piece of music."

Browne looked at Lee.

"Was there a title on it?"

Lee nodded. He grinned suddenly, showing his white pointed teeth.

He said:

"Quite right, sir. It was entitled _Swan Song..."_

* * *

General Jake broke out suddenly. He exclaimed:

"The whole thing is preposterous-preposterous! Slinging accusations about like this! Something must be done about it. This fellow Owen whoever he is-"

Bonnibel Bubblegum interrupted. She said:

"That's just it, who is he?"

Gerald interposed. He spoke with authority.

"That is exactly what we must go into very carefully. I should suggest that you get your wife to bed first of all, Peppermint. Then come back here."

"Yes, sir."

Dr. Petrikov said:

"I'll give you a hand, Peppermint."

Leaning on the two men, B-MO tottered out of the room. When they had gone, the Duke of Nuts said:

"Don't know about you, sir, but I could use a drink."

Lee said:

"I agree."

The Duke said:

"I'll go and forage."

He went out of the room.

He returned a second or two later.

"Found them all waiting on a tray outside ready to be brought in."

He set down his burden carefully. The next minute or two was spent in dispensing drinks. General Jake had a stiff whiskey, and so did Gerald. Everyone felt the need of a stimulant. Only Bonnibel Bubblegum demanded and obtained a glass of water.

Dr. Petrikov re-entered the room.

"It's all right," she said. "I've given it a sedative to take. What's that, a drink? I could do with one."

Several of the men refilled their glasses. A moment or two later Peppermint re-entered the room.

Mr. Gerald Browne took charge of the proceedings.

He said:

"Now then Peppermint, we must get to the bottom of this. Who is this Mr. Owen?"

Peppermint stared.

"He owns this place, sir."

"I am aware of that fact. What I want you to tell me is what you yourself know about the man."

Peppermint shook his head.

"I can't say, sir. You see, I've never seen him."

There was a faint stir in the room.

General Jake said:

"You've never seen him. What d'yer mean?"

"We've only been here just under a week, sir, my wife and I. We're engaged by letter, through an agency."

Browne said:

"Have you got that letter?''

"The letter engaging us? No sir, I didn't keep it."

"Go on with your story. You were engaged, as you say, by letter."

"Yes, sir. We were to arrive on a certain day. We did. Everything was in order here. Plenty of food in stock and everything very nice. Just needed dusting and that."

"What next?"

"Nothing, sir. We got orders-by letter again-to prepare the rooms for a houseparty and then yesterday by the afternoon post I got another letter from Mr. Owen. It said he and Mrs. Owen were detained and to do the best we could and it gave instructions about dinner and coffee and putting on the gramophone record."

"Surely you got _that_ letter?"

"Yes, sir, I've got it here."

He produced it from a pocket. Gerald took it.

"Hmm,"he said."Headed Ritz Hotel and typewritten."

With a quick movement Finn was beside him.

He said:

"If you'll just let me have a look."

He twitched it out of the others hand, and ran his eyes over it.

He murmured:

"Coronation machine. Quite near-no defects. Ensign paper-the most widely used made. You won't get anything out of that. Might be fingerprints, but I doubt it."

Browne stared at him with sudden attention.

The Duke of Nuts was standing beside Finn looking over his shoulder. He said:

"Got some fancy names, hasn't he? Ulrick Norman Owen. Quite a mouthful."

Gerald said with a slight start:

"I am obliged to you Duke of Nuts. You have brought my attention to a curious and suggestive point."

He looked round at the others and thrusting his neck forward like an angry tortoise, he said:

"I think the time has come for us all to pool our information. It would be well, I think, for everybody to come forward with all the information they have regarding the owner of this house," he paused and then went on. "We are all his guests. I think it would be profitable id each one of us were to explain how that came about."

There was a moment's pause and then Bonnibel Bubblegum spoke with decision.

''There's something very peculiar about all this," she said. "I received a letter with a signature that was not very easy to read. It had purported to be from a woman I'd met at a certain summer resort two or three years ago. I took the name to be Ogden or Oliver. I am acquainted with a Mrs. Oliver and also with a Miss Ogden. I am quite certain that I never met, or become friendly with anyone of the name Owen."

Mr. Gerald Browne said:

"You have that letter, Miss Bubblegum?"

"Yes, I will fetch it for you."

She went away and returned a moment later with the letter.

Gerald read it. He said:

"I begin to understand...Miss Adabeer?"

Marceline explained the circumstances of her secretarial engagement.

Gerald said:

"Duke?"

The Duke said:

"Got a wire. From a pal of mine. Told me to roll up here."

Again Browne nodded. He said:

"Dr. Petrikov?"

"I was called in professionally."

"I see. You had no previous acquaintanceship with the family?"

"No. A colleague of mine was mentioned in the letter."

Gerald said:

"To give verisimilitude...Yes, and that colleague, I presume, was momentarily out of touch with you?"

"Well-er-yes."

Lee, who had been staring at Finn, said suddenly:

"Look here, I've just thought of something-"

Gerald lifted a hand.

"In a minute."

"But I-"

"We will take one thing at a time, Mr. Lee. We are at present inquiring into the causes which have resulted in our being here to-night. General Jake?"

Pulling at his moustache, the General muttered:

"Got a letter-from this fellow Owen-mentioned some old pals of mine who were to be here-hoped I'd excuse informal invitation. Haven't kept the letter, I'm afraid."

Browne said:

"Mr. Lee?"

Lee's brain had been active. Was he to come out in the open, or not? He made up his mind.

"Same sort of thing,'' he said. "Invitation, mention of mutual friends-I fell for it alright. I've torn up the letter."

Mr. Gerald Browne turned his attention to Finn. His forefinger stroked his upper lip and his voice was dangerously polite.

He said: "Just now we had a somewhat disturbing experience. An apparently disembodied voice spoke to us all by name, uttering certain precise accusations at will all deal with those accusations presently. At the moment I am interested in a minor point. Amongst the names recited was that of Finn the Human. But as far as we know there is no one named Finn amongst us. The name of Davey was _not_ mentioned. What do you have to say about that, Davey?"

Finn said sulkily:

"Cat's out of the bag, it seems. I suppose I'd better admit my name isn't Davey."

"You are Finn the Human?"

"That's right."

"I will add something,"said Lee."Not only are you under a false name, Finn, but in addition I've noticed this evening that you're a first-class liar. You claim to have come from the Wasteland. I know the Wasteland and I'm prepared to say you never set foot in the Wastes in your life."

All eyes were turned on Finn. Angry suspicious eyes. The Duke of Nuts moved a step nearer to him. His fists clenched themselves.

"Now then, you swine," he said. "Any explanation?"

Finn flung back his head and set his square jaw.

"You gentlemen have got me wrong," he said. "I've got my credentials and you can see them. I'm an ex- C.I.D. man. I run a detective agency in the Candy Kingdom. I was put on this job."

Mr. Gerald Browne asked: "By whom?"

"This man Owen. Enclosed a handsome money order for expenses and instructed me as to what he wanted done. I was to join the houseparty, posing as a guest. I was given all your names. I was to watch you all."

"Any reason given?"

"Mrs. Owen's jewels. Mrs. Owen my foot! I don't believe there's any such person."

Again Gerald's forefinger stroked his lip, this time appreciatively.

"Your conclusions are, I think, justified," he said. "Ulrick Norman Owen! In Miss Bubblegum's letter, though the signature of the surname is a mere scrawl the Christian names are reasonably clear-Una Nancy-in either case, you notice, the same initials. Ulrick Norman Owen- Una Nancy Owen-each time, that is to say, U.N. Owen. Or by a slight stretch of fancy, UNKNOWN!"

Marceline cried:

"But this is fantastic-mad!"

Gerald nodded gently.

He said:

"Oh, yes. I've no doubt in my own mind that we have been invited here by a madman-probably a dangerous homicidal lunatic."


	4. Chapter 3

There was a moment's silence-a silence of dismay and bewilderment. Then Gerald's small clear voice took up the thread once more.

"We will now proceed to the second stage of our inquiry. First, however, I will add my own credentials to the list."

He took a letter from his pocket and tossed it on the table.

"This purports to be from an old friend of mine, Lady Alice Ledbetter. I have not seen her for some years. She went to the East. It is exactly the kind of vague incoherent letter she would write, urging me to join her here and describing her host and hostess in the vaguest of terms. The same technique, you will observe. I only mention it because it agrees with the other evidence-from all which emerges one interesting point. _Whoever it was who enticed us here, that person knows or has taken the trouble to find out a good deal about us all. _He, whoever he may be, is aware of my friendship for Lady Alice-and is familiar with her epistolary style. He knows something about Dr. Petrikov's colleagues and their present whereabouts. He knows the kind of telegrams the Duke's friend would send. He knows exactly where Miss Bubblegum was two years ago for her holiday and the kind of people she met there. He knows all about General Jake's old cronies."

He paused. Then he said:

"_He knows, you see, a good deal. _And out of his knowledge concerning us, he has made certain definite accusations."

Immediately a babel broke out.

General Jake shouted:

"A pack of damn lies! Slander!"

Marceline cried out:

"It's iniquitous!" Her breath came fast. "Wicked!"

Peppermint said hoarsely:

"A lie-a wicked lie...we never did-neither of us..."

The Duke of Nuts growled:

"Don't know what the damned fool was getting at!"

The upraised hand of Mr. Gerald Browne calmed the tumult.

He said, picking his words with care:

"I wish to say this. Our unknown friend accuses me of the murder of one Thomas Browne. I remember Browne perfectly well. He came up before me for trial in June of the year 2030. He was charged with the murder of an elderly woman. He was very ably defended and made a good impression on the jury in the witness box. Nevertheless, on the evidence, he was certainly guilty. I summed up accordingly, and the jury brought in a verdict of Guilty. In passing sentence of death I concurred with the verdict. An appeal was lodged on the grounds of misdirection. The appeal was rejected and the man was duly executed. I wish to say before you all that my conscience is perfectly clear on the matter. I did my duty and nothing more. I passed sentence on a rightly convicted murderer."

Petrikov was remembering now. The Browne case! The verdict had come as a great surprise. Afterwords he heard comments: "Judge was dead against him. Turned the jury right round and they brought him in guilty. Quite legal, though. Old Browne knows his law."

"It was almost as if he had a private down on the fellow."

All these memories rushed through the doctor's mind. Before he could consider the wisdom of the question he asked impulsively:

"Did you know Browne at all? I mean previous to the case."

The hooded reptilian eyes met his. In a clear cold voice the judge said:

"I knew nothing of Browne previous to the case."

Petrikov said to himself:

"The fellow's lying-I know he's lying."

* * *

Marceline Abadeer spoke out in a trembling voice.

She said:

"I'd like to tell you. About that child-Chris Northcaster. I was nursery governess to him. He was forbidden to swim out far. One day, when my attention was distracted, he started off. I swam after him...I couldn't get there in time... It was awful... But it wasn't my fault. At the inquest the Coroner exonerated me. And his mother-she was so kind. If even she didn't blame me, why should-why should this awful thing be said? It's not fair-not fair..."

She broke down, weeping bitterly.

General Jake patted her shoulder.

He said:

"There, there, my dear. Of course it's not true! Fellow's a madman. A madman!"

He stood erect, squaring his shoulders. He barked out:

"Best really to leave this sort of thing unanswered. However, feel I ought to say-no truth-no truth in what he said about-er-young Mr. Cupcake. Cupcake was one of my officers. I sent him on a reconnaissance. He was killed. Natural course of events in wartime. Wish to say resent very much-slur on my wife. Best woman in the world."

General Jake sat down. His shaking hand pulled at his moustache. The effort to speak had cost him a good deal.

Lee spoke. His eyes were amused. He said:

"About those natives-"

The Duke said:

"What about them?"

Marshall Lee grinned.

"Story's quite true. I left 'em. Matter of self preservation. We were lost in the bush. I and a couple other fellows took what food there was and cleared out."

General Jake said sternly:

"You abandoned your men-left them to starve?"

Lee said:

"Not quite the act of _pukka sahib, _I'm afraid. But self preservation's a man's first duty. And native's don't mind dying, you know."

Marceline lifted her face from her hand. She said, staring at him:

"You left them-to _die_?"

Lee answered:

"I left them to die."

His amused eyes looked into horrified ones.

The Duke of Nuts said in a slow puzzled voice:

"I've just been thinking-Jervis and Alice Tetch. Must have been a couple of kids I ran over. Beastly bad luck."

Mr. Gerald Browne said acidly:

"For them, or for you?"

The Duke said:

"Well, I was thinking-for me-but, of course, you're right, sir, it was damned bad luck on them. Of course it was a pure accident. They rushed out of some cottage or other. I had my licence endorsed for a year. Beastly nuisance."

Dr. Petrikov said warmly:

"This speeding's all wrong-all wrong! Young men like you are a danger to the community."

The Duke shrugged his shoulders.

He said:

"Speed's come to stay. Ooo roads are hopeless, of course. Can't get up a decent pace on them."

He looked around vaguely for his glass, picked it up off the table and went over to the side table and helped himself to another whiskey and soda. He said over his shoulder:

"Well, anyway, it wasn't my fault. Just an accident!"

* * *

Peppermint had been moistening his lips and twisting his hands. He said now in a low deferential voice:

"If I just might say a word, sir."

Lee said:

"Go ahead, Peppermint."

Peppermint cleared his throat and passed his tongue once more over his dry lips.

"There was a mention, sir, of me and B-MO. And of Mr. Creampuff. There isn't a word of truth in it, sir. My wife and I were with Mr. Creampuff till he died. He was always in poor health, sir, always from the time we came to her. There was a storm, sir, that night-the night she was taken bad. The telephone was out of order. We couldn't get the doctor to her. I went for him, sir, on foot. But he got there too late. We'd done everything possible for her, sir. Devoted to her, we were. Anyone will tell you the same. There was never a word said against us. Not a word."

Lee looked thoughtfully at the man's twitching face, his dry lips, the fright in his eyes. He remembered the crash of the falling coffee tray.

He thought but did not say,"Oh yea?"

Finn spoke-spoke in his hearty bullying official manner.

He said:

"Came into something at her death, though? Eh?"

Peppermint drew himself up. He said stiffly:

"Mr. Creampuff left us a legacy in recognition of our faithful services. And why not, I'd like to know?"

Lee said:

"What about yourself, Finn?"

"What about me?"

"Your name was included on the list."

Finn went purple.

"Magic Man, you mean? That was a bank robbery."

Mr. Gerald Browne stirred. He said:

"I remember. It didn't come before me, but I remember the case. Magic Man was convicted on your evidence. You were the police officer in charge of the case?"

Finn said:

"I was."

"Magic Man got penal servitude for life and died a year later. He was a delicate man."

Finn said:

"He was a crook. It was he who knocked out the night watchman. The case was quite clear against him."

Browne said slowly:

"You were complimented, I think, on your able handling of the case."

Finn said sulkily:

"I got my promotion."

He added in a thick voice.

"I was only doing my duty."

Lee laughed-a sudden ringing laugh. He said:

"What a duty-loving, law-abiding lot we all seem to be! Myself excepted. What about you doctor-and your little professional mistake? Illegal operation, was it?"

Bonnibel Bubblegum glanced at him in sharp distaste and she drew herself away a little.

Dr. Petrikov, very much the master of himself, shook his head good-humouredly.

"I'm at a loss to understand the matter," he said.

"The name meant nothing to me when it was spoken. What was it-Granger? I really can't remember having a patient of that name, or being connected with a death in any way. The thing's a complete mystery to me. Of course, it's a long time ago. It might possibly be from one of my operation cases in hospital. They come too late, so many of these people. Then, when the patient dies, they always consider it's the surgeon's fault."

He sighed, shaking his head.

He thought:

_"Drunk-that's what it was-drunk...And I operated! Nerves all to pieces-hands shaking. I killed her, alright. Poor devil-young girl-simple job if I'd been sober. Lucky for me there's loyalty in our profession. The Sister knew, of course-but she held her tongue. God, it gave me a shock! Pulled me up. But who could have known about it-after all these years?"_

* * *

There was silence in the room. Everybody was looking, covertly or openly, at Bonnibel Bubblegum. It was a minute or two before she became aware of the expectation. Her eyebrows rose on her narrow forehead. She said:

"Are you waiting me to say something? I have nothing to say."

Gerald said:

"Nothing, Miss Bubblegum?"

"Nothing."

Her lips closed tightly.

Gerald stroked his face. He said mildly:

"You reserve your defence?"

Miss Bubblegum said coldly:

"There is no question of defence. I have always acted in accordance with the dictates of my conscience. I have nothing with which to reproach myself."

There was an unsatisfied feeling in the air. But Bonnibel Bubblegum was not one to be swayed by public opinion. She sat unyielding.

Gerald cleared his throat. Then he said:

"Our inquiry rests there. Now, Peppermint, who else is there on this island besides ourselves you and your wife?"

"Nobody, sir. Nobody at all."

"You're sure of that?"

"Quite sure, sir."

Browne said:

"I am not yet clear as to the purpose of our Unknown host in getting us to assemble here. But in my opinion, this person, whoever he may be, is not sane in the accepted sense of the word."

"He may be dangerous. In my opinion it would be well for us to leave this place as soon as possible. I suggest that we leave to-night."

Peppermint said:

"I beg your pardon, sir, but there's no boat on the island."

"No boat at all?"

"No sir."

"How do you communicate with the mainland?"

"Starchy, he comes over every morning,sir. He brings the bread and the milk and the post, and takes the orders.''

Mr. Gerald Browne said:

"Then in my opinion it would be well if we all left to-morrow morning as soon as Starchy's boat arrives."

There was a chorus of agreement with only one dissentient voice. It was the Duke of Nuts who disagreed with the majority.

"A bit unsporting, what?" he said. "Ought to ferret out the mystery before we go. Whole thing's like a detective story. Positively thrilling."

Gerald said acidly:

"I have no desire for "thrills," as you call them."

The Duke said with a grin:

"The legal life's narrowing! I'm all for crime! Here's to it!"

He picked up his pudding and scarfed it down in a gulp.

Too quickly, perhaps. He choked-choked badly. His face contorted, turned purple. He gasped for breath-then slid down off his chair, the glass falling from his hand.


	5. Chapter 4

It was so sudden and so unexpected that it took everyone's breath away. They remained stupidly staring at the crumpled figure on the ground.

Then Dr. Petrikov jumped up and went over to him, kneeling beside him. When he raised his head his eyes were bewildered.

He said in a low awe-struck whisper:

"My God! He's dead!"

They didn't take it in. Not at once.

Dead? _Dead?_ That young God in the prime of his health and strength. Struck down all in a moment. Healthy young men didn't die like that, choking over pudding...

No, they couldn't take it in.

Dr. Petrikov was peering into the dead man's face. He sniffed at the blue twisted lips. Then he picked up the glass from which the Duke of Nuts had been drinking.

General Jake said:

"Dead: D'you mean the fellow just choked and-and died?"

The physician said:

"You can call it choking if you like. He died of asphyxiation right enough."

He was sniffing now at the glass. He dipped a finger into the pudding and very cautiously just touched the tip of his tongue.

His expression altered.

General Jake said:

"Never knew a man could just die like that-just of a choking fit."

Bonnibel Bubblegum said in a clear voice:

"In the midst of life we are in death."

Dr. Petrikov stood up. He said brusquely:

"No, a man doesn't die of a mere choking fit. The Duke's death wasn't what we call a natural death."

Marceline said almost in a whisper:

"Was there-something-in the pudding?"

Petrikov nodded.

"Yes, can't say exactly. Everything points to one of the cyanides. No distinctive smell of Prussic Acid, probably Potassium Cyanide. It acts pretty well instantaneously."

Gerald said sharply:

"It was in his glass?"

"Yes."

The doctor strode to the table where the pudding was. All were unopened.

"It's all alright."

Lee said:

"He must have put the stuff in his glass himself."

Petrikov nodded with a curiously dissatisfied expression. He said:

"Seems like it."

Finn said:

"Suicide, eh? That's a queer go."

Marceline said slowly:

"You'd never think he would kill himself. He was so alive. He was-oh-enjoying himself. When he came down that hill in his carriage he looked-he looked-oh, I can't _explain!_"

But they knew what she meant. The Duke of Nuts, in the height of his youth and manhood, had seemed like a being who was immortal. And now, crumpled and broken, he lay on the floor.

Dr. Petrikov said:

"Is there any possibility other than suicide?"

Slowly everyone shook his head. There could be no other explanation. The pudding itself was untampered with. They had all seen the Duke of Nuts go over and help himself. It followed therefore that an Cyanide in the pudding must have been put there by the Duke of Nuts himself.

And yet-why should the Duke of Nuts commit suicide?

Finn said thoughtfully:

"You know, doctor, it doesn't seem right to me. I shouldn't have said the Duke of Nuts was a suicidal type of gentleman."

Petrikov answered:

"I agree."

* * *

They had left it like that. What else was there to say?

Together Petrikov and Lee had carried the inert body of the Duke of Nuts to his bedroom and had laid him there covered with a sheet.

When they came downstairs again, the others were standing in a group, shivering a little, though the night was not cold.

Bonnibel Bubblegum said:

"We'd better go to bed. It's late."

It was past twelve o'clock. The suggestion was a wise one-yet everyone hesitated. It was as though they clung to eachother's company for reassurance.

Gerald said:

"Yes, we must get some sleep."

Peppermint said:

"I haven't cleared yet-in the dining-room."

Lee said curtly:

"Do it in the morning."

Petrikov said to him:

"Is your wife alright?"

"I'll go and see, sir."

He returned a minute or two later.

"Sleeping beautiful, she is."

"Good,"said the doctor. "Don't disturb her."

"No, sir. I'll just put things straight in the dining-room and make sure everything's locked up right, then I'll turn in."

He went across the hall into the dining-room.

The others went upstairs, a slow unwilling procession.

If this had been an old house, with creaking wood, and dark shadows, and heavily paneled walls, there might have been an eerie feeling. But the house was the essence of modernity. There were no dark corners-no possible sliding panels-it was flooded with electric light-everything was new and bright and shining. There was nothing hidden in this house, nothing concealed. It had no atmosphere about it.

Somehow, that was the most frightening thing of all...

They exchanged good-nights on the upper landing. Each of them went into his or her own room, and each of them automatically, almost without conscious thought, locked the door...

* * *

In his pleasantly softly tinted room, Mr. Gerald Browne removed his garments and prepared himself for bed.

He was thinking about Thomas Browne. He remembered Browne very well. His curly hair, his blue eyes, his habit of looking you straight in the face with a pleasant air of straightforwardness. That was what had made so good an impression on the jury.

Gerald wound up his watch carefully and placed it by the bed.

He remembered exactly how he had felt sitting there-listening, making notes, appreciating everything, tabulating every scrap of evidence that told against the prisoner.

He'd enjoyed that case!

And then had come his own summing up...

Hooding his eyes, Gerald smiled to himself.

He'd cooked Browne's goose alright!

With a slight grunt, he climbed into bed and turned out the electric light.

* * *

Downstairs in the dining-room, Peppermint stood puzzled.

He was staring at the china figures in the centre of the table.

He muttered to himself:

"That's a rum go! I could have sworn there were ten of them."

* * *

General Jake tossed from side to side.

Sleep would not come to him. In the darkness he kept seeing Mr. Cupcake's face.

He'd liked Cupcake-he'd been damned fond of Cupcake. He'd been pleased that Lady liked him too.

Lady was so capricious. Lots of good fellows that Lady would turn up her nose and pronounce dull. "Dull!" Just like that.

But she hadn't found Mr. Cupcake dull. They'd got on well together from the beginning. They'd talked of plays and music and pictures together. She'd teased him, made fun of him, ragged him. And he, Jake, had been delighted at the thought that Lady took quite a motherly interest in the boy.

Motherly indeed! Damn fool not to remember that Cupcake was twenty-eight to Lady's twenty-nine.

He'd loved Lady and had believed in her absolutely.

Out there in the Wastes, in the middle of all the hell of it, he'd sat thinking of her, taken her picture out of the breast pocket of his tunic.

And then-he'd found out!

It had come about exactly the way it had happened in books. The letter in the wrong envelope. She'd been writing to them both and she'd put her letter to Cupcake in the envelope addressed to her husband. Even now, all these years later, he could feel the shock of it-the pain...

God, it had hurt!

And the business had been going on some time. The letter had made that clear. Week-ends! Cupcake's last leave...

Lady-Lady and Cupcake!

God damn the fellow! Damn his smiling face, his brisk "Yes, sir." Liar and hypocrite! Stealer of another man's wife!

It had gathered slowly-that cold murderous rage.

He'd managed to carry on as usual-to show nothing. He'd tried to make his manner to Cupcake just the same.

Had he succeeded? He thought so. Cupcake hadn't suspected. Inequalities of temper were easily accounted for out there, where men's nerves were continually snapping under the strain.

Only young Morley had looked at him curiously once or twice. Quite a young chap, but he'd had perceptions, that boy.

Morley, perhaps, had guessed-when the time came.

He'd sent Cupcake deliberately to death. Only a miracle could have brought him through unhurt. That miracle didn't happen. Yes, he'd sent Cupcake to his death and he wasn't sorry. It had been easy enough. Mistakes were being made all the time, officers being sent to death needlessly. All was confusion, panic. People might say afterwards, "Old Dog lost his nerve a bit, made some colossal blunders, sacrificed some of his best men." They couldn't say more.

But young Morley was different. He'd looked at his commanding officer very oddly. He'd known, perhaps, that Cupcake was being deliberately sent to death.

(And after the War was over-had Morley talked?)

Lady hadn't known. She wept for her lover (he supposed) but her weeping was over by the time he'd come back to the Candy Kingdom. He'd never told her that he'd found her out. They'd gone on together-only, somehow, she hadn't seemed very real anymore. And then, three or four years later, she'd got double pneumonia and died.

That had been a long time ago. Fifteen years-sixteen years?

And he'd left the Army and come to live in Devon-bought the sort of place he'd always meant to have. Nice neighbors-pleasant part of the world. There was a bit of shooting and fishing. He'd gone to church on Sundays. (But not the day the lesson was read about David putting Uriah in the forefront of battle. Somehow he couldn't face that. Gave him an uncomfortable feeling.)

Everybody had been very friendly. At first, that is. Later, he'd had an uneasy feeling that people were talking about him behind his back. They eyed him differently, somehow. As though they heard something-some lying rumour...

(Morley? Supposing Morley had talked?)

He'd avoided people after that-withdrawn into himself. Unpleasant to feel that people were discussing you.

And all so long ago. So-so purposeless now. Lady had faded into the distance and Mr. Cupcake, too. Nothing of what had happened seemed to matter anymore.

It made life lonely, though. He'd taken to shunning his old Army friends.

(If Morley had talked, they'd know about it.)

And now-this evening-a hidden voice had blared out that old hidden story.

Had he dealt with it alright? Kept a stiff upper lip? Betrayed the right amount of feeling-indignation, disgust-but no guilt, discomfort? Difficult to tell.

Surely nobody could have taken the accusation seriously. There had been a pack of other nonsense, just as far-fetched. That charming girl-the voice accused her of drowning a child! Idiotic! Some madman throwing crazy accusations about!

Bonnibel Bubblegum, too. It had accused _her_ of murder! Anyone could see with half an eye that the woman was as pious as could be-the kind that was hand and glove with parsons.

Damned curious business the whole thing! Crazy, nothing less.

Ever since they had got here-when was that?

Why, damn it, it was only this afternoon! Seemed a good bit longer than that.

He thought: "I wonder when we shall get away again."

To-morrow, of course, when the motor boat came from the mainland.

Funny, just this minute he didn't want much to get away from the island...To go back to the mainland, back to his little house, back to all the troubles and worries. Through the open window he could hear waves breaking on the rocks-a little louder now than earlier in the evening. Wind was getting up too.

He thought: "Peaceful sound. Peaceful place..."

He thought: "Best of an island is once you get there-you can't go any further...you've come to the end of things..."

_He knew, suddenly, that he didn't want to leave the island._

* * *

Marceline Abadeer lay in bed, wide awake, staring up at the ceiling.

The light beside her was on. She was frightened of the dark.

She was thinking:

"Ash...Ash...Why do I feel you're so near to me tonight?...Somewhere quite close..."

"Where is he really? I don't know. I never shall know. He just went away-right away-out of my life!"

It was no good trying to not think of Ash. He was close to her. She_ had _to think of him-to remember...

Asheville...

The black rocks, the smooth yellow sand. Mrs. Northcaster, stout, good-humoured. Chris, whining a little always, pulling at her hand.

_"I want to swim out to the rock, Miss Abadeer. Why can't I swim out to the rock?"_

Looking up-meeting Ash's eyes watching her.

The evenings after Chris was in bed...

_"Come out for a stroll, Miss Abadeer."_

_"I think perhaps I will."_

The decorous stroll down to the beach. The moonlight-the soft Atlantic air.

And then-Ash's arms around her.

_"I love you, I love you. You know I love you, Marceline?"_

Yes, she knew.

(Or she thought she knew.)

_"I can't ask you to marry me. I've not got a penny. It's all I can do to keep myself. Queer, you know, for three months I had the chance of being a rich man to look forward to. Chris wasn't born until three months after Eric died. If he'd been a girl..."_

If the child had been a girl, Ash would have come into everything. He'd been disappointed, he admitted.

_"I hadn't built on it, of course. But it was a bit of a knock. Oh, well, luck's luck! Chris' a nice kid. I'm awfully fond of him." _And he was fond of him, too. Always ready to play games, or amuse his small nephew. No rancour in Ash's nature.

Chris wasn't really strong. A puny child-no stamina. The kind of child, perhaps, who wouldn't live to grow up...

And then-?

_"Miss Abadeer, why can't I swim out to the rock?"_

Irritating whiney repetition.

_"It's too far, Chris."_

"But_ Miss Abadeer..."_

Marceline got up. She went to the dressing-table and swallowed three aspirins.

She thought:

"I wish I had some proper sleeping stuff."

She thought:

"If _I_ were doing away with myself I'd take an overdose of veronal-something like that-not cyanide!"

She shuddered as she remembered the Duke of Nuts' purple convulsed face.

As she passed the mantelpiece, she looked up at the framed doggerel.

_Ten little Indian boys went out to dine;_

_One choked his little self and then there were nine._

She thought to herself:

"It's horrible-_just like us this evening..."_

Why had the Duke of Nuts wanted to die?

_She _didn't want to die.

She couldn't imagine wanting to die...

Death was for-the other people...


	6. Chapter 5

Dr. Petrikov was dreaming...

It was very hot in the operating room...

Surely they've got the temperature too high? The sweat was rolling down his face. His hands were clammy. Difficult to hold the scalpel firmly...

How beautifully sharp it was...

Easy to do a murder with a knife like that. And of course he _was_ doing a murder...

The woman's body looked different. It had been a large unwieldy body. This was a spare meagre body. And the face was hidden.

Who was it he had to kill? He couldn't remember. Should he ask Sister?

Sister was watching him. No, he couldn't ask her. She was suspicious, he could see that.

But who was it on the operating table?

They shouldn't have covered up the face like that...

If only he could see the face...

Ah! That was better. A young probationer was pulling off the handkerchief.

Bonnibel Bubblegum, of course. It was Bonnibel Bubblegum he had to kill. How malicious her eyes were. Her lips were moving. What was she saying?

_"In the midst of life we are in_ death..."

She was laughing now. No, nurse, don't put the handkerchief. I've got to see. I've got to give the anaesthetic. Where's the ether? I must havee brought the ether with me. What have you done with the ether, Sister? Chateau Neuf du Pape? Yes, that will do quite well.

Take the handkerchief away, nurse.

Of course! I knew it all this time! _It's the Duke of Nuts! _His face is purple and convulsed. But he's not dead-he's laughing! I tell you he's laughing! He's shaking the operating table.

Look out, man, look out. Nurse, steady it-steady-it-

With a start Dr. Petrikov woke up. It was morning. Sunlight was pouring into the room.

And someone was leaning over him-shaking him. It was Peppermint. Peppermint, with a white face, saying: "Doctor-doctor!"

Dr. Petrikov woke up completely.

He sat up in bed. He said sharply:

"What is it?"

"It's the wife, doctor. _I can't get her to wake._ My God! I can't get her to wake. And she-she don't look right to me.

Dr. Petrikov was quick and efficient. He wrapped himself in his dressing-gown and followed Peppermint.

He bent over the bed where the robot was lying peacefully on her side. He lifted the cold hand, raised the eyelid. It was a few minutes before he straightened himself and turned from the bed.

Peppermint whispered:

"Is-she-is she-"

Petrikov nodded.

"Yes, she's gone."

His eyes rested thoughtfully on the man before him. Then they went to the table by the bed, to the washstand, then back to the sleeping robot.

Peppermint said:

"Was it- was it-'er 'eart, doctor?"

Dr. Petrikov was a minute or two before replying. Then he said:

"What was her health like normally?"

Peppermint said:

"She was a bit rheumaticky."

"Any doctor been attending her recently?"

"Doctor?" Peppermint stared. "Not been to a doctor for years-neither of us."

"You'd no reason to believe she'd suffered from heart trouble?"

No, doctor. I'd never knew of anything."

Petrikov said:

"Did she sleep well?"

Now Peppermint's eyes evaded his. The man's hands came together and turned and twisted uneasily. He muttered.

"She didn't sleep extra well-no."

The doctor said sharply:

"Did she take things to make her sleep?"

Peppermint stared at him, surprised.

"Take things? To make her sleep? Not that I know of. I'm sure she didn't."

Petrikov went over to the washstand.

There were a certain number of bottles on it. Hair lotion, lavender water, cascara, glycerine of cucumber for the hands, a mouthwash, some toothpaste, and some Elliman's.

Peppermint helped by pulling out the doors of the dressing-table. From there they moved on to the chest of drawers. But there was no sign of sleeping draughts or tablets.

Peppermint said:

"She didn't have anything last night, sir, except what you gave her..."

* * *

When the gong sounded for breakfast at nine o'clock it found everyone up and awaiting the summons.

General Jake and Gerald had been pacing the terrace outside, exchanging desultory comments on the political situation.

Marceline Abadeer and Marshall Lee had been up to the summit of the island behind the house. There they had discovered Finn the Human, standing staring at the mainland.

He said:

"No sign of that motor boat yet, I've been watching for it."

Marshall Lee was looking the other way, out to sea.

He said abruptly:

"What d'you think of the weather?"

Glancing up at the sky, Finn remarked:

"Looks alright to me."

From below them they heard the boom of a gong.

Marshall Lee said:

"Breakfast? Well, I could do with some."

As they went down the steep slope Finn said to Lee in a ruminating voice:

"You know, it beats me-why that young fellow wanted to do himself in! I've been worrying about it all night."

Marceline was a little ahead. Lee hung back slightly. He said:

"Got any alternative theory?"

"I'd want some proof. Motive, to begin with. Well-off I should say he was."

Bonnibel Bubblegum came out of the drawing-room window to meet them.

She said sharply:

"Is the boat coming?"

"Not yet," said Marceline.

They went in to breakfast. There was a vast dish of eggs and bacon on the sideboard and tea and coffee.

Peppermint held the door open for them to pass in, then shut it from the outside.

Bonnibel Bubblegum said:

"The man looks ill this morning."

Dr. Petrikov, who was standing by the window, cleared his throat. He said:

"You must excuse any-er-shortcomings this morning. Peppermint has had to do the best he can for breakfast singlehanded. B-MO has-er-not been able to carry on this morning."

Bonnibel Bubblegum said sharply:

"What's the matter with the robot?"

Dr. Petrikov said uneasily:

"Let us start our breakfast. The eggs will be cold. Afterwords, there are several matters I want to discuss with you all."

They took the hint. Plates were filled, coffee and tea was poured. The meal began.

Discussion of the island was, by mutual consent, tabooed. They spoke instead in a desultory fashion of current events.

Then, when plates were cleared, Dr. Petrikov moved back his chair a little, cleared his throat importantly and spoke.

He said:

"I thought it better wait until you had had your breakfast before telling you a sad piece of news. B-MO died in her sleep."

They were startled and shocked.

Marceline exclaimed:

"How awful! Two deaths on this island since we arrived!"

Mr. Gerald Browne, his eyes narrowed, said in his small precise clear voice:

"H'm-very remarkable-what was the cause of death?"

Petrikov shrugged his shoulders.

"Impossible to say offhand."

"There must be an autopsy?"

"I certainly couldn't give a certificate. I have no knowledge whatsoever of the robot's state of health."

Marceline said:

"She was a very nervous-looking creature. And she had a shock last night. It might have been heart failure, I suppose?"

Dr. Petrikov said drily:

"Her heart certainly failed to beat-but what caused it to fail is the question."

One word fell from Bonnibel Bubblegum. It fell hard and clear into the listening group.

"Conscience," she said.

Dr. Petrikov turned to her.

"What exactly do you mean by that, Miss Bubblegum?"

Bonnibel Bubblegum said:

"You all heard. She was accused, together with her husband, of having deliberately murdered their former employer-an old man."

"And you think?"

"I think that the accusation was true. You all saw her last night. She broke down completely and fainted. The shock of having her wickedness brought home to her was too much to bear. She literally died of fear."

Dr. Petrikov shook his head doubtfully.

"It is a possible theory," he said. "One cannot adopt it without more exact knowledge of her state of health. If there was cardiac weakness-"

Bonnibel Bubblegum said quietly:

"Call it, if you prefer, an Act of God."

Everyone looked shocked. Finn said uneasily:

"That's carrying things a bit far, Miss Bubblegum."

She looked at them with shining eyes. Her chin went up. She said:

"You regard it as impossible that a sinner should be struck down by the wrath of God! I do not!"

Gerald stroked his chin. He murmured in a slightly ironic voice:

"My dear lady, in my experience of ill-doing, Providence leaves the work of conviction and chastisement to us mortals-and the process is often fraught with difficulties. There are no short cuts.''

Bonnibel Bubblegum shrugged her shoulders.

Finn said sharply:

"What did she have to eat or drink last night after she went up to bed?"

"Peppermint assures me she had nothing whatsoever."

"Ah," said Finn. "But he _might _say so!"

His tone was so significant that the doctor looked at him sharply.

"Marshall Lee said:

"So that's your idea?"

Finn said aggressively:

"Well, why not? We all heard that accusation last night. May be sheer moonshine-just plain lunacy! On the other hand, it may not. Allow for a moment that it's true. Peppermint and his robot polished off that old man. Well, where does that get you? They've been feeling quite safe and happy about it-"

Marceline interrupted. She said:

"I don't B-MO ever felt safe."

Finn looked slightly annoyed at the interruption. "Just like a woman," his glance said.

He resumed:

"That's as may be. Anyway there's no active danger to them as far as they know. Then, last night, some unknown lunatic spills the beans. What happens? The robot cracks-she goes to pieces. Notice how her husband hung around her as she was coming around. Not all husbandly solicitude! Not on your life! He was like a cat on hot bricks. Scared out of his life as to what she might say. And there's the position for you! They've done a murder and got away with it. But if the whole thing's gonna be raked up, what's gonna happen? Ten to one, the woman will give the show away. She hasn't got the nerve to stand up and brazen it out. She's a living danger to her husband, that's what she is. He's alright. _He_'ll lie with a straight face till kingdom comes-but he can't be sure of _her!_ And if _she _goes to pieces, his neck's in danger! So he slips something into a cup of tea and makes sure her mouth is shut permanently."

Petrikov said slowly:

"There was no empty cup by her bedside-there was nothing there at all. I looked."

Finn snorted.

"Of course there wouldn't be! First thing he'd do when she'd drunk it would be to take that cup and saucer away and wash it up carefully."

There was a pause. Then General Jake said doubtfully:

"It may be so. But I should hardly think it possible that a man would do that-to his wife."

Finn gave a short laugh.

"When a man's neck's in danger, he stop to think too much about sentiment."

There was a pause. Before anyone could speak, the door opened and Peppermint came in.

He said, looking from one to the other:

"Is there anything more I can get you? I'm sorry there was so little toast, but we've run right out of bread. The new bread hasn't come over from the mainland yet."

Mr. Gerald Browne stirred a little in his chair. He asked:

"What time does the motor boat usually come over?"

"Between seven and eight, sir. Sometimes it's a bit after eight. Don't know what Starchy could be doing this morning. If he's ill he'd send his brother."

Marshall Lee said:

"What's the time now?"

"Ten minutes to ten, sir."

Lee's eyebrows rose. He nodded slowly to himself.

Peppermint waited a minute or two.

General Jake spoke suddenly and explosively.

"Sorry to hear about your wife, Peppermint. Doctor's just been telling us."

Peppermint inclined his head.

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

He tool the empty bacon dish and went out.

Again there was silence.

* * *

On the terrace outside Marshall Lee said:

"About this motor boat-"

Finn looked at him.

Finn nodded his head.

He said:

"I know what you're thinking, Mr. Lee. I've asked myself the same question. Motor boat ought to have been here nigh on two hours ago. It hasn't come. Why?"

"Found the answer?" asked Lee.

"_It's not an accident_-that's what I say. It's part and parcel of the whole business. It's all bound up together."

Marshall Lee said:

"It won't come, you think?"

A voice spoke behind him-a testy impatient voice.

"The motor boat's not coming," he said.

Finn turned his square shoulder slightly and viewed the last speaker thoughtfully.

"You think not too, General?"

General Jake said sharply:

"Of course it won't come. We're counting on the motor boat to take us off the island. That's the meaning of the whole business. _We're not going to leave the island..._None of us will ever leave...It's the end, you see-the end of everything..."

He hesitated, then he said in a low strange voice:

"That's peace-real peace. To come to the end-not have to go on...Yes, peace..."

He turned abruptly and walked away. Along the terrace, then down the slope towards the sea-obliquely-to the end of the island where loose rocks went out into the water.

He walked a little unsteadily, like a man who was only half awake.

Finn said:

"There goes another one who's balmy! Looks as though it'll end with the whole lot going that way."

Marshall Lee said:

"I don't fancy _you_ will, Finn.

The ex-Inspector laughed.

"It would take a lot to send me off my head."

He added drily:

"And I don't think you'll be going that way either, Mr. Lee."

Marshall Lee said:

"I feel quite sane at the minute, thank you."

* * *

Dr. Petrikov came out onto the terrace. He stood there hesitating. To his left was Finn and Lee. To his right was Browne, slowly pacing up and down, his head bent down.

Petrikov, after a moment of indecision, turned towards the latter.

But at that moment Peppermint came quickly out of the house.

"Could I have a word with you, sir, please?"

Petrikov turned.

He was startled at what he saw. Peppermint's face was working. It's colour was greyish green. His hands shook.

It was such a contrast to his restraint of a few minutes ago that Petrikov was taken aback.

"Please, sir, if I could have a word with you. Inside, sir."

The doctor turned back and re-entered the house with the frenzied butler. He said:

"What's the matter, man? Pull yourself together."

"In here, sir, come in here."

He opened the dining-room door. The doctor passed in. Peppermint followed him and shut the door behind him.

"Well," said Petrikov. "What is it?"

The muscles of Peppermint's throat were working. He was swallowing. He jerked out:

"There's thing's going on, sir, that I don't understand."

Petrikov said sharply: "Things? What things?"

"You'll think I'm crazy, sir. You'll say it isn't anything. But it's got to be explained, sir. It's got to be explained. Because it doesn't make any sense."

"Well, man, tell me what it is? Don't go on talking in riddles."

Peppermint swallowed again.

He said:

"It's those little figures, sir. In the middle of the table. The little china figures. Ten of them, there were. I'll swear to that, ten of them."

Petrikov said:

"Yes, ten. We counted them last night at dinner."

Peppermint came nearer.

"That's just it, sir. Last night, when I was clearing up, there wasn't but nine, sir. I noticed it and thought it queer. But that's all I thought. And now, sir, this morning. I didn't notice when I laid the breakfast. I was upset and all that. But now, sir, when I came to clear away. See for yourself if you don't believe me. _There's only eight, sir! _Only eight! It doesn't make sense, does it? _Only eight..."_


	7. Chapter 6

After breakfast, Bonnibel Bubblegum had suggested to Marceline Abadeer that they should walk up to the summit again and watch for the boat. Marceline had acquiesced.

The wind had freshened. Small white crests were appearing on the sea. There were no fishing boats out-and no sign of the motor boat.

Bonnibel Bubblegum said:

"The man who brought us out yesterday seemed a dependable sort of person. It is really so very odd that he should be so late this morning."

Marceline did not answer. She was fighting down a rising feeling of panic.

She said to herself angrily:

"You must keep cool. This isn't like you. You've always had excellent nerves."

Aloud she said after a minute or two:

"I wish he would come. I-I want to get away."

Bonnibel Bubblegum said drily:

"I've no doubt we all do."

Marceline said:

"It's all so extraordinary...There seems no-no meaning in it all."

The woman beside her said briskly:

"I'm very annoyed with myself for being so easily taken in. Really that letter is absurd when one comes to examine it. But I had no doubts at the time-none at all."

Marceline murmured mechanically:

"I suppose not."

"One takes things for granted too much," said Bonnibel Bubblegum.

Marceline drew a deep shuddering breath.

She said:

"Do you really think-what you said at breakfast?"

"Be a little more precise, my dear. To what in particular are you referring?"

Marceline said in a low voice:

"Do you really think that Peppermint and his wife did away with that old man?"

Bonnibel Bubblegum gazed thoughtfully out to sea. Then she said:

"Personally, I am quite sure of it. What do you think?"

"I don't know what to think."

Bonnibel Bubblegum said:

"Everything goes to support the idea. The way the robot fainted. And the man dropped the coffee tray, remember. Then the way he spoke about it-it didn't ring true. Oh yes, I'm afraid they did it."

Marceline said:

"The way she looked-scared of her own shadow! I've never seen anyone look so frightened...She must have always been haunted by it..."

Miss Bubblegum murmured:

"I remember a text that hung in my nursery as a child. '_Be sure thy sin will find thee out.'_ It's very true, that. '_Be sure thy sin will find thee out.'"__  
_

Marceline scrambled to her feet. She said:

"But, Miss Bubblegum-Miss Bubblegum-in that case-"

"Yes, my dear?"

"The others? What about the others?"

"I don't quite understand you."

"All the other accusations-they-_they_ weren't true? But if it's true about Peppermint and B-MO-" She stopped, unable to make her chaotic thoughts clear.

Bonnibel Bubblegum's brow, which had been frowning perplexedly, cleared.

She said:

"Ah, I understand you now. Well, there is that Lee. He admits to having abandoned twenty men to their deaths."

Marceline said:

"They were only natives..."

Bonnibel Bubblegum said sharply:

"They are our brothers."

Marceline thought:

"Our brothers-our brothers. Oh, I'm going to laugh. I'm hysterical. I'm not myself..."

Bonnibel Bubblegum continued thoughtfully:

"Of course, some of the other accusations were very far-fetched and ridiculous. Against the judge, for instance, who was only doing his duty in the public capacity. And the ex-Inspector. My own case, too."

She paused then went on:

"Naturally, considering the circumstances, I was not going to say anything last night. It was not a fit subject to discuss before gentlemen."

"No?"

Marceline listened with interest. Miss Bubblegum continued serenely:

"Lemonhope was in service to me. _Not a nice girl-_as I found out too late. I was very much deceived in her. She had nice manners and was very clean and willing. I was very pleased with her. Of course all that was the sheerest hypocrisy! She was a loose girl with no morals. Disgusting! It was some time before I found out she was what they call 'in trouble.'" She paused, her delicate nose wrinkling itself in distaste. "It was a great shock to me. Her parents were decent folk, too, who had brought her up very strictly. I'm glad to say they did not condone her behaviour."

Marceline said, staring at Miss Bubblegum.

"What happened?"

"Naturally I didn't keep her an hour under my roof. No one shall ever say that I condoned immorality."

Marceline said in a lower voice:

"What happened-to her?"

Miss Bubblegum said:

"The abandoned creature, not content with having one sin on her conscience, committed a still graver sin. She took her own life."

Marceline whispered horror-struck:

"She killed herself?"

"Yes, she threw herself into the river."

Marceline shivered.

She stared at the calm delicate profile of Miss Bubblegum. She said:

"What did you feel like when you knew she'd done that? Weren't you sorry? Didn't you blame yourself?"

Bonnibel Bubblegum drew herself up.

"I? I had nothing with which to reproach myself."

Marceline said:

"But if your-hardness-drove her to it?"

Bonnibel Bubblegum said sharply:

"Her own action-her own sin-that was what drove her to it. If she had behaved like a decent modest young woman none of this would've happened."

She turned her face to Marceline. There was no self-reproach, no uneasiness in those eyes. They were hard and self-righteous. Bonnibel Bubblegum sat on the summit of Indian Island, encased in her own armour of virtue.

The little elderly spinster was no longer slightly ridiculous to Marceline.

Suddenly-she was terrible.

* * *

Dr. Petrikov came out of the dining-room and once more came out onto the terrace.

The judge was sitting in a chair now, staring placidly out to sea.

Lee and Finn were over to the left, smoking but not talking.

As before, the doctor hesitated for a moment. His eye rested speculatively at Mr. Gerald Browne. He wanted to consult with someone. He was conscious of the judge's acute logical brain. But nevertheless he wavered. Petrikov needed a man of action.

He made up his mind.

"Lee, can I speak to you for a minute?"

Marshall started.

"Of course."

The two men left the terrace. They strolled the slope towards the water. When they were out of earshot, Petrikov said:

"I want a consultation."

Lee's eyebrows went up. He said:

"My dear fellow, I've no medical knowledge."

"No, no, I mean as to the general situation."

"Oh, that's different."

Petrikov said:

"Frankly, what do you think of it?"

Lee reflected a minute. Then he said:

"It's rather suggestive, isn't it?"

"What are your ideas on the subject of that robot? Do you accept Finn's theory?"

Marshall puffed smoke into the air. He said:

"It's perfectly feasible-taken alone."

Petrikov's tone sounded relieved. Marshall Lee was no fool.

The latter went on.

"That is, accepting the premise that they have successfully gotten away with murder in their time. And I don't see why they shouldn't. What do you think exactly? Poisoned the old man?"

Petrikov said slowly:

"It might be simpler than that. I asked Peppermint this morning what this Mr. Creampuff had suffered from. His answer was enlightening. I don't need to go into medical details, but in a certain form of cardiac trouble, amyl nitrate is used. When an attack comes on an ampoule of amyl nitrate is broken and it is inhaled. If amyl nitrate were withheld-well, the consequences might easily be fatal."

Marshall Lee said thoughtfully:

"As simple as that. It must have been-rather tempting."

The doctor nodded.

"Yes, no positive action. No arsenic to obtain and administer-nothing definite-just negation. And Peppermint hurried through the night to fetch a doctor and they both felt confident that no one would ever know."

"And, even if they knew, nothing could ever be proved against them," added Marshall Lee.

He frowned suddenly.

"Of course-that explains a good deal."

Petrikov said, puzzled:

"I beg your pardon."

Lee said:

"I mean-it explains Indian Island. There are crimes that cannot be brought home to their perpetrators. Instance, old Browne, who committed his murder strictly within the law."

Petrikov said sharply:

"You believe that story?"

Marshall Lee smiled.

"Oh, yes, I believe it. Browne murdered Thomas Browne all right, murdered him as surely as if he stuck a stiletto through him! But he was clever enough to do it from the judge's seat in wig and gown. So in the ordinary way you can't bring his crime home to him."

A sudden flash passed like lightning through Petrikov's mind.

_"Murder in Hospital. Murder on the Operating Table. Safe-yes, safe as houses!"_

Marshall Lee was saying:

"Hence-Mr. Owen-hence Indian Island!"

Petrikov drew a deep breath.

"Now we're getting down to it. What's the real purpose of getting us all here?"

Marshall Lee said:

"What do _you_ think?"

Petrikov said abruptly:

"Let's go back a minute to this robot's death. What are the possible theories? Peppermint killed her because he was afraid she'd give the show away. Second possibility: She lost her nerve and took the easy way out herself."

Marshall Lee said:

"Suicide, eh?"

"What do you say to that?"

"It could have been-yes-_if it hadn't been for the Duke of Nuts. _Two suicides within twelve hours is a little _too_ much to swallow! And if you tell me that the Duke of Nuts, a young bull with no nerves and precious little brains, got the wind up after mowing down a couple of kids and deliberately put himself out of the way-well, the idea's laughable! And anyway, how did he get hold of the stuff? From all I've heard, Potassium Cyanide isn't the kind of stuff you take about with you in your waistcoat pocket. But that's your line of country."

Petrikov said:

"Nobody in their senses carries Potassium Cyanide. It might be done by someone who going to take a wasps' nest."

"The ardent gardener or landowner, in fact? Again, not the Duke of Nuts. It strikes me that Cyanide is going to need a little bit of explaining. Either the Duke of Nuts meant to do away with himself before he came here, and therefore came prepared-or else-"

Petrikov prompted him.

"Or else?"

Marshall Lee grinned.

"Why make me say it? When it's on the tip of your own tongue. _The Duke of Nuts was murdered, of course."_

* * *

Dr. Petrikov drew a deep breath.

"And B-MO?"

Lee said slowly:

"I could believe in the Duke's suicide (with difficulty) if it weren't for B-MO. I could believe in B-MO's suicide (easily) if it weren't for the Duke of Nuts. I can believe that Peppermint put his wife out of the way-if it were not for the unexplained death of the Duke of Nuts. But what we need is a theory to explain two deaths following rapidly on each other."

Petrikov said:

"I can perhaps give you some help towards that theory."

And he repeated the facts that Peppermint had given him about the disappearance of the little china figures.

Lee said:

"Yes, little china Indian figures...There were certainly ten last night at dinner. And now there are eight, you say?"

Dr. Petrikov recited:

_"Ten little Indian boys going out to dine;_

_One went and choked himself and then there were nine._

_Nine little Indian boys sat up very late;_

_One overslept himself and then there were eight."_

The two men looked at each other. Marshall Lee grinned and flung away his cigarette.

"Fits too damned well to be a coincidence! The Duke of Nuts dies of asphyxiation or choking last night after dinner, and B-MO oversleeps herself with a vengeance."

"And therefore?" said Petrikov.

Lee took him up.

"And therefore another kind of puzzle! Mr. Owen! U.N. Owen. One Unknown Lunatic At Large!"

"Ah!" Petrikov breathed a sigh of relief. "You agree. But you see what it involves? Peppermint swore that there was no one but ourselves on the island."

"Peppermint is wrong! Or possibly Peppermint is lying!"

Petrikov shook his head.

"I don't think he's lying. The man's scared. He's scared nearly out of his senses."

Marshall Lee nodded.

He said:

"No motor boat this morning. That fits in. Mr. Owen's little arrangements again to the fore. Indian Island is to be isolated until Mr. Owen has finished his job."

Petrikov had gone pale. He said:

"You realize the man must be a raving maniac!"

Marshall Lee said, and there was a new ring in his voice:

"There's one thing Mr. Owen didn't realize."

"What's that?"

"This island's more or less a bare rock. We shall make short work of searching it."

Dr. Petrikov said warningly:

"He'll be dangerous."

Marshall Lee laughed.

"Dangerous? Who's afraid of the big bad wolf? _I'll_ be dangerous when I get a hold of him!"

He paused and said:

"We'd better rope in Finn to help us. He'll be a good man in a pinch. Better not tell the women. As for the others, the General's ga ga, I think, and old Browne's forte is masterly inactivity. The three of us can attend to this job."


	8. Chapter 7

Finn was easily roped in. He expressed immediate agreement with their arguments.

"What you've said about those china figures, sir, makes all the difference. That's crazy, that is! There's only one thing. You don't think this Owen's idea might be to do the job by proxy, as it were?"

"Explain yourself, man."

"Well, I mean like this. After the racket last night this young Duke gets the wind up and poisons himself. And Peppermint,_he _gets the wind up too, and bumps off his wife! All according to U.N.O.'s plan."

Petrikov shook his head. He stressed the point about the Cyanide. Finn agreed.

"Yes, I'd forgotten about that. Not a natural thing to be carrying about with you. But how did it get in his drink, sir?"

Lee said:

"I've been thinking about that. The Duke had several drinks that night. Between the time he had his last one and the time he finished the one before it, there was quite a gap. During that time his glass was lying on some table or other. I think-though I can't be sure, it was on the little table near the window. The window was open. Somebody could have slipped a dose of Cyanide into the glass."

Finn said unbelieving:

"Without all our seeing him, sir?"

Lee said drily:

"We were all-rather concerned elsewhere."

Petrikov said slowly:

"That's true. We'd all been attacked. We were walking about, moving about the room. Arguing, indignant, intent on our own business. I think it_could _have been done..."

Finn shrugged his shoulders.

"Fact is, it must have been done! Now then, gentlemen, let's make a start. Nobody's got a revolver, by any chance? I suppose that's too much to hope for."

Lee said:

"I've got one." He patted his pocket.

Finn's eyes opened very wide. He said in an over-casual tone:

"Always carry that about with you, sir?"

Lee said:

"Usually. I've been in some tight places, you know."

"Oh," said Finn and added: "Well you've probably never been in a tighter place then you are today! If there's a lunatic on this island, he's probably got a young arsenal on him-to say nothing of a knife or dagger or two."

Petrikov coughed.

"You may be wrong, there, Finn. Many homicidal lunatics are very quiet, unassuming people. Delightful fellows."

Finn said:

"I don't feel this one is going to be of that kind, Dr. Petrikov."

* * *

The three men started on their tour of the island.

It proved unexpectedly simple. On the northwest side, towards the coast, the cliffs fell sheer to the sea below, their surface unbroken.

On the rest of the island there were no trees and very little cover. The three men worked carefully and methodically, beating up and down from the highest point to the water's edge, narrowly scanning the least irregularity in the rock which might point to the entrance to a cave. But there was no caves.

They came at last, skirting the water's edge, to where General Jake sat looking out to sea. It was very peaceful here with the lapping of the waves breaking over the rocks. The old man sat very upright, his eyes fixed on the horizon.

He paid no attention to the approach of the searchers. His oblivion of them made one at least faintly uncomfortable.

Finn thought to himself:

"'Tisn't natural-looks as though he's gone into a trance or something."

He cleared his throat and said in a would-be-conversational tone:

"Nice peaceful spot you've found for yourself, sir."

The General frowned. He cast a quick look over his shoulder. He said:

"There is so little time-so little time. I really must insist that no one disturbs me."

Finn said genially:

"We won't disturb you. We're just making a tour of the island, so to speak. Just wondered, you know, if some one was hiding on it."

The General frowned and said:

"You don't understand-you don't understand at all. Please go away."

Finn _retreated._ He said, as he joined the other two:

"He's crazy...it's no good talking to him."

Lee asked with some curiosity:

"What did he say?"

Finn shrugged his shoulders.

"Something about there being no time and that he didn't want to be disturbed."

Dr. Petrikov frowned.

He murmured:

"I wonder..."

* * *

The search of the island was practically completed.

The three men stood on the highest point of the island looking over towards the mainland. There were no boats out. The wind was freshening.

Lee said:

"No fishing boats out. There's a storm coming. Damned nuisance you can't see the village from here. We could signal or do something."

Finn said:

"We might light a bonfire to-night."

Lee said, frowning:

"The devil of it is that that's probably all been provided for."

"In what way, sir?"

"How do I know? Practical joke, perhaps. We're to be marooned here, no attention is to be paid to signals, etc. Possibly the village has been told there's a wager on. Some damn fool story anyway."

Finn said dubiously:

"Think they'd swallow that?"

Lee said drily:

"It's easier of belief than the truth! If the village were told the island was to be isolated until Mr. Unknown Owen had quietly murdered all his guests-do you think they'd believe that?"

Dr. Petrikov said:

"There are moments when I can't believe it myself. And yet-"

Marshall Lee, his lips curling back from his teeth, said:

"_And yet-_that's just it! You've said it, doctor!"

Finn was gazing down into the water.

He said:

"Nobody could have clambered down here, I suppose?"

Petrikov shook his head.

"I doubt it. It's pretty sheer. And where could he hide?"

Finn said:

"There might be a hole in the cliff. If we had a boat now, we could row around the island."

Lee said:

"If we had a boat, we'd be halfway to the mainland by now!"

"True enough, sir."

Lee said suddenly:

"We can make sure of this cliff. There's only one place where there _could_ be a recess-just a little to the right below here. If you fellows can get hold of a rope, you can let me down to make sure."

Finn said:

"Might as well _be_ sure. Though it seems absurd-on the face of it! I'll see if I can get hold of something."

He started off briskly down to the house.

Lee stared up at the sky. The clouds were beginning to mass themselves together. The wind was increasing.

He shot a sideways look at Petrikov. He said:

"You're very silent, doctor. What are you thinking?"

Petrikov said slowly:

"I was wondering exactly how mad old Jake was..."

* * *

Marceline had been restless all morning. She had avoided Bonnibel Bubblegum with a kind of shuddering aversion.

Miss Bubblegum herself had taken a chair round the corner of the house as to be out of the wind. She sat there knitting.

Every time Marceline thought of her she seemed to see a pale drowned face with seaweed entangled in the hair...A face that had once been pretty-impudently pretty perhaps-and which was now beyond the reach of pity or terror.

And Bonnibel Bubblegum, placid and righteous, sat knitting.

On the main terrace, Mr. Gerald Browne sat huddled in a porter's chair. His head poked down well into his neck.

When Marceline looked at him, she saw a young man with fair hair and blue eyes and a bewildered, frightened face. Thomas Browne. And in imagination she saw the judge's hands put the black cap on his head and pronounce the sentence...

After awhile Marceline strolled slowly down to the sea. She walked along towards the extreme end of the island where an old man sat staring out to the horizon.

General Jake stirred at her approach. His head turned-there was a queer mixture of questioning and apprehension in his look. It startled her. He stared intently at her for a minute or two.

She thought to herself:

"How queer. It's almost as if he _knew..._"

He said:

"Ah! it's you! You've come..."

Marceline sat down beside him. She said:

"Do you like sitting here looking out to sea?"

He nodded his head gently.

"Yes," he said. "It's pleasant. It's a good place, I think, to wait."

"To wait?" Marceline said sharply. "What are you waiting for?"

He said gently:

"The end. But I think you know that, don't you? It's true, isn't it? We're all waiting for the end."

She said unsteadily:

"What do you mean?"

General Jake said gravely:

"_None of us are going to leave the island. _That's the plan. You know it, of course, perfectly. What, perhaps, you can't understand is the relief!"

Marceline said wonderingly:

"The relief?"

He said:

"Yes. Of course, you're very young...you haven't got to that yet. But it does come! The blessed relief when you know that you've done with it all-that you haven't got to carry the burden any longer. You'll feel that too someday..."

Marceline said hoarsely:

"I don't understand you."

Her fingers worked spasmodically. She felt suddenly afraid of this quiet old soldier.

He said musingly:

"You see, I loved Lady. I loved her very much..."

Marceline said questioningly:

"Was Lady your wife?"

"Yes, my wife...I loved her-and I was very proud of her. She was so pretty."

He was silent for a minute or two, then he said:

"Yes, I loved Leslie. That's why I did it."

Marceline said:

"You mean-" and paused.

General Jake nodded his head gently.

"It's not much good denying it now-not when we're all going to die. _I sent Cupcake to his death. _I suppose, in a way, it was murder. Curious. _Murder-_and I've always been such a law abiding man. But it didn't seem like that at the time. I had no regrets. 'Serves him damned well right!'-that's what I thought. But afterwards-"_  
_

In a hard voice, Marceline said:

"Well, afterwords?"

He shook his head vaguely. He looked puzzled and a little distressed.

"I don't know. I-don't know. It was all different, you see. I don't know if Lady ever guessed...I don't think so. But you see, I didn't know about her any more. She'd gone far away where I couldn't reach her. And then she died-and I was alone..."

Marceline said:

"Alone-alone-" and the echo of her voice came back to her from the rocks.

General Jake said:

"You'll be glad, too, when the time comes."

Marceline got up. She said sharply:

"I don't know what you mean!"

He said:

"I_ know, _my child, I _know_..."

"You don't. You don't understand at all..."

General Jake looked out to sea again. He seemed unconscious of her presence behind him.

He said very gently and softly:

"Lady?..."

* * *

When Finn returned from the house with a rope coiled over his arm, he found Petrikov where he'd left him staring down into the depths.

Finn said breathlessly:

"Where's Mr. Lee?"

Petrikov said carelessly:

"Gone to test some theory or other. He'll be back in a minute. Look here, Finn, I'm worried."

"I should say we were all worried."

The doctor waved an impatient hand.

"Of course-of course. I don't mean it that way. I'm thinking of old Jake."

"What about him, sir?"

Dr. Petrikov said grimly:

"What we're looking for is a madman. _What price Jake?"_

Finn said incredulously:

"You mean he's homicidal?"

Petrikov said doubtfully:

"I shouldn't have said so. Not for a minute. But of course I'm not a specialist in mental diseases. I haven't really had any conversation with him-I haven't studied him from that point of view."

Finn said doubtfully:

"Ga ga, yes! But I wouldn't have said-"

Petrikov cut in with slight effort as of a man who pulls himself together.

"You're probably right. Damn it all, there _must _be some one hiding on the island! Ah! Here comes Lee."

They fastened the rope carefully.

Lee said:

"I'll help myself all I can. Keep a lookout for a sudden strain in the rope."

After a minute or two, while they stood together watching Lee's progress, Finn said:

"Climbs like a cat, doesn't he?"

There was something odd in his voice.

Dr. Petrikov said:

"I should think he must have done some mountaineering in his time."

"Maybe."

There was a silence and the ex-Inspector said:

"Funny sort of cove altogether. D'you know what I think?"

"What?"

"He's a wrong 'un!"

Petrikov said doubtfully:

"In what way?"

Finn grunted. Then he said:

"I don't know-exactly. But I wouldn't trust him a yard."

Dr. Petrikov said:

"I suppose he's led an adventurous life."

Finn said:

"I bet some of his adventures have had to be kept pretty dark." He paused then went on:

"Did you happen to bring a revolver along with you, doctor?"

Petrikov stared.

"Me? Good Lord, no. Why should I?"

Finn said:

_"Why did Mr. Lee?"_

Petrikov said doubtfully:

"I suppose-habit."

Finn snorted.

A sudden pull came on the rope. For some moments they had their hands full. Presently, when the strain relaxed, Finn said:

"There are habits _and _habits! Mr. Lee takes a revolver to out-of-the-way places, right enough, and a primus _and_ a sleeping bag and a supply of bug powder, no doubt! But habit wouldn't make him bring the whole outfit down here! It's only in books people carry revolvers around as a matter of course."

Dr. Petrikov shook his head perplexedly.

They leaned over and watched Lee's progress. His search was thorough and they could see at once it was futile. He wiped the perspiration from his forehead.

"Well," he said. "We're up against it. It's the house or nowhere."

* * *

The house was easily searched. They went through the few outbuildings first and then turned their attention to the building itself. B-MO's yard measure found in the kitchen assisted them. Everything was plain and straightforward, a modern house without concealments. They were through the ground floor first. As they mounted to the bedroom floor, they saw through the landing window Peppermint carrying out a tray of cocktails to the terrace.

Marshall Lee said lightly:

"Wonderful animal, the good servant. Carries on with an impassive countenance."

Petrikov said appreciatively:

"Peppermint is a first-class butler, I'll say that for him!"

"His wife was a pretty good cook, too. That dinner-last night-"

They turned into the first bedroom.

Five minutes later they faced each other on the landing. No one hiding-no possible hiding-place.

Finn said:

"There's a little stair there."

Dr. Petrikov said:

"It leads up to the servants' room."

Finn said:

"There must be a place under the room-for cisterns, water tank, etc. It's the best chance-and the only one!"

* * *

Finn was wrestling with the bolts of a low manhole.

He disappeared into a cavernous darkness. Lee pulled a torch from his pocket and followed.

Five minutes later three men stood on an upper landing and looked at each other. They were dirty and festooned with cobwebs and their faces were gloom.

There was no one on the island but their eight selves.


End file.
